


Dirty Fighting

by borgmama1of5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borgmama1of5/pseuds/borgmama1of5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two guys walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: sandymg who made me very happy when she ‘got’ this one  
> Disclaimer: Just having some fun…
> 
> Prompt: from kalliel-- _Crowley: This has been a horrible train wreck, so we’re done. Team up over. (11.10 The Devil in the Details)_

Donald rolled the six-sided coin between his fingers as he distractedly took another swallow of his beer.

“Put it under your pillow tonight and your deepest wish will come true,” the woman had said. Donald still didn’t know why he’d walked into the second-hand store, it wasn’t the kind of place he ever bothered with. He’d barely braved the claustrophobic jumble of stuff inside the door and was going to turn around and leave, when the proprietor, a sharp-cheeked older woman, had stopped him.

“I have exactly what you need,” she’d said, and insisted he come to the back counter where she’d removed the oversize coin from a wooden box. It had been weirdly warm when she pressed it into his hand.

He'd protested, he was not going to buy anything. "It's a gift," she'd cut him short. "Your deepest wish, your secret desire. Put it under your pillow. Tonight."

So he was sitting in a bar trying to figure out what exactly his secret wish was. Money? Well, he wouldn't mind a million dollars or two...Love? Well, he couldn't think of anyone in particular, though someone who looked like Scarlet Johannsen would be nice...

The heated voices from the other end of the bar broke his reverie. 

“...think you are? You think you can just keep telling me what to do?! You can just fuck off!"

“I’m your brother, Sammy, it's my job to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“You know what, Dean, I can make my own decisions!”

Two rough-looking guys were going at it loud enough to make pretty much everyone in the place look at them.

“Yeah, like you make such good ones on your own!" The shorter one in the leather jacket stepped in close to the taller, long-haired man and pushed him in the chest, causing the tall man to take a step backward. "Having me drive over five hundred miles to this podunk town because you think there's a job for us here...and bupkis!"

"I told you, you didn't have to come, I would have been fine checking it out on my own."

"It always goes so well when you're on your own, little brother." Leather jacket kept backing the other one down the length of the bar. "Dad put me in charge of watching out for you and he ain’t here, so it’s my job!

“Yeah, right, Dad cared about me so much he kicked me out for going to college!”

“You’re always running away, and then who has to come bail you out?"

"I'm not asking you to, Dean! You're always throwing yourself in front of me and thinking you're doing something great but you're not! I don't need you to babysit me!"

The bartender made a vain attempt to quiet them down—“Guys, guys, take it outside,” which was as effective as spitting in a volcano.

"Last time you were on your own you ended up sleeping with that skank Ruby—you gonna tell me that was a 'good decision,' Sammy?"

"Screw you, Dean, you don't know anything about what happened. And you should talk, you sleep with anything that has legs!"

Big brother's hand was a blur as it connected with his brother's jaw, crashing the tall guy right into Donald, showering Donald's beer all over Donald and the table.

"Hey!"

"Fuck you, Sammy!" Leather jacket spun away toward the exit.

"Well fuck you, too!" Tall dude yelled as he caught himself on the edge of the bar, then turned to Donald. "I'm sorry, dude. My brother's an ass. Let me help you." He grabbed a fistful of napkins and started swiping at the mess on Donald's shirt.

"Lemme." Donald grabbed the napkins away. 

"I'm so sorry. Let me buy you another beer. Here." The guy pulled a twenty from his pocket and dropped it on the table.

"Yeah, just let it go, it's okay."

The guy rubbed his jaw as he apologized again, hesitated a moment, and then walked out.

The bartender came over with a towel and a fresh drink, and Donald figured he'd just smell like a brewery till he got home and showered and hoped he wouldn't get stopped by a cop on the way...

His coin. 

It had gotten knocked from his hand when the guy crashed into him—it wasn't on the bar, must have fallen on the floor.

He didn't see it around his stool, so Donald got up and checked the floor all along the counter. 

Nothing.

Donald waved the bartender over. “Hey, did you see a coin fall somewhere when that guy banged into me?”

“Nope.”

“Where the hell did it go?”

As Donald started to check the floor again, a heavyset man sitting at the nearest table spoke up. “Missing something?”

“Yeah, I had a…an antique coin I got today, I dropped it and now I can’t find it.”

“That guy that spilled your beer? It looked like he picked up something from your table. I didn’t know what it was…”

Son of a bitch. 

The only thing he can wish for now is that those two assholes get what they deserve.


End file.
